Daily Archives: October 28, 2016

No seriously, BQB’s Top Ten Girlfriend/Boyfriend Warning Sign Lists live on after a long hiatus.

So without further ado, from BQB HQ in Fabulous East Randomtown, it’s the Top Ten Warning Signs Your Girlfriend Might be the Bride of Frankenstein.

#10 – She has an electrifying personality, not in the sense that she can carry a conversation well but rather, she needs to get zapped with a damn lightning bolt every day before she gets up and moves around.

#9 – Exceptionally tall hair-do. No one wants to sit behind her at the movies.

#8 – Frankenstein himself is always shuffling slowly in your general direction in an effort to maul you. Can’t really blame him. She is “The Bride of Frankenstein” and not “The Bride of Insert Your Name Here” after all, you loathsome pervert.

#7 – She has incredible brute strength, so much so that a little hand action down south is out of the question.

#6 – Screams gibberish at you constantly, all day long. So…right, like most women.

#5 – Has only been alive for five minutes but still figured out how to do that annoying duck lip selfie that all women insist on doing.

#4 – Spends a fortune on hair spray.

#3 – Has cold feet and cold everything else.

#2 – Asks you if the butt that Doctor Frankenstein sewed on her looks big. There is no acceptable answer that won’t result in you being torn apart other than, “No.”

If you’ve got a pad full of fly ass witch hunnies and dope ass Frankensteins, they’re going to want to boogie, so without further ado, from BQB HQ in fabulous East Randomtown, it’s the Top Ten Halloween Songs:

#10 – “Season of the Witch” – Donovan

An oldie but a goodie. Has that 1960s vibe with an eerie twist. Also, it is about witches so there you go.

This one’s relatively new, having come out in this decade. However, it uses “monster” in a double meaning. You can assume that they’re rapping about being a monster as in being bad in order to get ahead or you can actually assume they’re rapping about become real ass monsters.

Nicki Minaj pretty much became known for sounding sweet and innocent and one verse, only to turn dark and evil the next.

Sweet one minute, evil the next. Yes, I know. This describes most women. Moving on…

#8 – Time Warp – Rocky Horror Picture Show

I saw that movie once. It was so old that it featured a version of Susan Sarandon that you actually wanted to see in a bra.

There was supposed to be a live performance of it. Did that happen yet?

Eh, catchy song, though whoever came up with this show must have been smoking copious amounts of herb.

“Let’s do the time warp again…”

Paging Dr. Frank N. Furter…

#7 – Somebody’s Watching Me – Rockwell

Aha! You thought this was by Michael Jackson, didn’t you?

Wrong! It was by Rockwell, though admittedly he sounded like Mike.

The beat and lyrics are creepy. I defy you to listen to it and not feel like someone is actually watching you.

No one ever watches me though. They’d be very bored by my lame ass life and would puke whenever the bathroom parts happen.

#6 – Ghostbusters – Ray Parker Jr.

Sure, it’s a theme song for one of the greatest 1980s comedies, but it also has an awesome beat.

It’s fun. It’s not scary. And you can dance to it. “Bustin’ Makes Me Feel Good!”

The Palacio Nacional was an astounding piece of architecture. Though by the 1800s it featured balconies, columns, porticos and other European style features, there were parts of the structure that dated back to the Aztec King Montezuma II.

But at this particular moment of history, there was no time to appreciate a fine building. Rival factions had gathered outside and violence was underway.

“Guerrero is the rightful ruler of Mexico!” cried one of the president’s supporters. “Down with the traitors!”

“Fool!” shouted a supporter of the vice-president. “Bustamante will lead us into prosperity!”

Torches were brandished. Rocks and bricks were thrown. Heads were busted. Fists flew.

A shot was fired.

“Insolent rabble!” shouted Colonel Urrea as he stepped down from his horse. “Cease this disruption of the peace and make way for the general so that he may sort out this matter at once!”

The opposing sides were ready to tear each others’ throats out over their disagreements, but they were united in their respect for Santa Anna. As the general marched up the steps in his dress uniform, the crowd gazed upon him in sheer reverence.

The general, the colonel, and Isadora entered the palace in lockstep with a dozen soldiers trailing them.

“General,” the Colonel said. “These past few months in your service have certainly been an adjustment. Your foray into the, well, for lack of a better word, ‘the occult,’ has certainly taught me many dark secrets about our world.”

“Yes,” the Colonel said. “And I must admit, it has taken me some time to get used to your new ‘advisor.’”

“Isadora’s advice has proven invaluable,” Santa Anna said.

“Right,” Colonel Urrea said. “But general, you are about to walk down a path from which you will never be able to come back from.”

The general placed his hand on a doorknob. “My dear friend, why would I ever want to come back from this?”

Santa Anna opened the door and entered the presidential library, a large room with walls lined with bookshelves holding ancient volumes and dusty old tomes.

On one side of an old oak conference table sat Vincente Guerrero, the tall, dark, brooding president. Two guards stood to his left. Two more stood to his right. All four men were loyal to the smug, smarmy looking vice-president Anastasio Bustamante, who was sitting across the table.

“You have signed your own death warrant, Bustamante,” Guerrero said. “I will enjoy seeing you swing from the end of a rope.”

“Oh come now, Vincente,” Bustamante said. “You’re in no position to make threats.”

Santa Anna’s troops spread out throughout the room.

“What is the meaning of this?” the general asked.

“Ahh,” Guerrero said with a grin. “Thank God! Santa Anna, this vile dog has dared to betray the will of the people.”

“Such drama,” Bustamante said.

“I won the election,” Guerrero said as he thumped his chest with his fist. “I chose you as Vice-President to make peace with your supporters and you reward me with a treacherous coup.”

“OK,” Bustamante said. “Yes, I’ll admit you make a good case that this isn’t very democratic but sometimes in a democracy the people must be prodded in the right direction and if they’re incapable of realizing that you’re little more than a common street charlatan…”

“Enough!” Santa Anna shouted.

The general looked to the guards. “You men. You are soldiers of the Mexican Army. I gave no order for an insurrection.”

The soldiers stayed quiet. Bustamante answered for them.

“Obviously I didn’t tell you that I was planning to overthrow this gorilla stuffed in a suit…

Upon hearing that remark, Guerrero attempted to stand up but was immediately shoved back down back the guards.

“…because you might have warned him. But now that the deed is done, Antonio, you’ll have to make a choice. Him or me.”

“Yes, mi amor,” Isadora said. “Who will it be?”

Santa Anna withdrew his pistol and aimed it at Guerrero. After a few seconds of hesitation, the general moved his weapon and pointed it at Bustamante.

“Oh, fuck it,” Santa Anna said as he held out his free hand. “Colonel, your sidearm.”

Urrea was perplexed but good solider that he was, he followed orders and placed his pistol in the general’s hand.

“Stop toying with us!” Guerrero hollered.

“Yes,” Bustamante said as he pounded his fist on the table. “Who will you side with?”

Santa Anna pulled both triggers. Holes opened in the heads of both men. Their bodies slumped forward in spent heaps.

“Neither of you,” Santa Anna said as he handed the pistol he borrowed back to the colonel.

The guards who had been loyal to Bustamante drew their swords. Santa Anna looked to his troops.

“Dispatch them.”

To the great horror of Bustamante’s men, the twelve soldiers that Santa Anna had brought with them flexed their muscles and burst out of their clothing. Fur sprang out of their bodies as they grew to well over seven feet tall. Snouts, long, sharp teeth, black noses, long claws.

The vice-president’s men were instantly ripped to shreds. One of the werewolves looked towards Santa Anna.

“Search the palace,” Santa Anna said. “Round up all who sided with the vice-president. Those unwilling to pledge their allegiance to me shall be executed.”

The werewolf nodded and he and his furry brethren were off.

“I must say, Isadora,” Santa Anna said. “Had your new werewolf recruits been in my service years ago, so many battles could have been won low these many years.”

“Yes,” Isadora said. “But do not forget they are only as loyal as your pockets are deep so never neglect to pay them and you’ll find they’re worth their weight in gold.”

The she-vamp caressed the cheek of a very frightened looking Colonel Urrea. “It’s the loyalty of this one that I worry about.”

“Is she right?” Santa Anna asked.

“No,” the Colonel said. “I serve Mexico and whoever happens to be in charge of it at the moment, in good times and in bad.”

Urrea looked around the room and grimaced at the multitude of dead bodies. “I just wish there was more good.”

Santa Anna rested his hand on the Colonel’s shoulder. “That’s good enough for me, General.”

“I’ve been promoted?” Urrea asked.

“We both have,” Santa Anna said.

The trio of Santa Anna, Isadora, and Urrea left the library and exited the palace. Outside, the rabble was just as rambunctious as ever, but they quieted down for Santa Anna.

“Good people of Mexico,” Santa Anna said. “After a thorough investigation, I determined that the president and the vice-president were a duo of filthy corrupt criminals whose misdeeds are far too voluminous too mention at this time. Therefore, I was left with no choice but to pass summary judgement upon them and execute them both on the spot so that they may never trespass against this great nation again.”

Hushed whispers could be heard throughout the crowd.

“As the nation’s chief military officer, I must, though it brings me no joy and is a terrible burden, assume the position of president,” Santa Anna said. “Further, in order to bring about order in the wake of this chaotic ordeal, I am left with no choice but to dissolve the Constitution of 1824 as well as all rights and privileges listed therein until such time as I determine that order has been restored.”

Urrea leaned into Isadora’s ear and whispered. “They’ll never go for it.”

“Oh ye of little faith,” Isadora whispered back.

“I realize this will result in a great deal of power being given to one and one man alone,” Santa Anna said. “But do not fear, my friends, for I have always served with honesty and dignity and will do so as your new president. From hereon, Santa Anna is Mexico and Mexico is Santa Anna!”

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore—
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
“’Tis some visitor,” I muttered, “tapping at my chamber door—
Only this and nothing more.”

Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December;
And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.
Eagerly I wished the morrow;—vainly I had sought to borrow
From my books surcease of sorrow—sorrow for the lost Lenore—
For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore—
Nameless here for evermore.

And the silken, sad, uncertain rustling of each purple curtain
Thrilled me—filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;
So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating
“’Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door—
Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door;—
This it is and nothing more.”

Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,
“Sir,” said I, “or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;
But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,
And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,
That I scarce was sure I heard you”—here I opened wide the door;—
Darkness there and nothing more.

Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before;
But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token,
And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, “Lenore?”
This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, “Lenore!”—
Merely this and nothing more.

Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,
Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before.
“Surely,” said I, “surely that is something at my window lattice;
Let me see, then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore—
Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore;—
’Tis the wind and nothing more!”

Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,
In there stepped a stately Raven of the saintly days of yore;
Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;
But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door—
Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door—
Perched, and sat, and nothing more.

Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,
“Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou,” I said, “art sure no craven,
Ghastly grim and ancient Raven wandering from the Nightly shore—
Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night’s Plutonian shore!”
Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”

Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,
Though its answer little meaning—little relevancy bore;
For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being
Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door—
Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door,
With such name as “Nevermore.”

But the Raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only
That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.
Nothing farther then he uttered—not a feather then he fluttered—
Till I scarcely more than muttered “Other friends have flown before—
On the morrow he will leave me, as my Hopes have flown before.”
Then the bird said “Nevermore.”

Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,
“Doubtless,” said I, “what it utters is its only stock and store
Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful Disaster
Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore—
Till the dirges of his Hope that melancholy burden bore
Of ‘Never—nevermore’.”

But the Raven still beguiling all my fancy into smiling,
Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird, and bust and door;
Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking
Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore—
What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and ominous bird of yore
Meant in croaking “Nevermore.”

This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing
To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom’s core;
This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining
On the cushion’s velvet lining that the lamp-light gloated o’er,
But whose velvet-violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o’er,
She shall press, ah, nevermore!

Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer
Swung by Seraphim whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor.
“Wretch,” I cried, “thy God hath lent thee—by these angels he hath sent thee
Respite—respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore;
Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe and forget this lost Lenore!”
Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”

“Prophet!” said I, “thing of evil!—prophet still, if bird or devil!—
Whether Tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,
Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted—
On this home by Horror haunted—tell me truly, I implore—
Is there—is there balm in Gilead?—tell me—tell me, I implore!”
Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”

“Prophet!” said I, “thing of evil!—prophet still, if bird or devil!
By that Heaven that bends above us—by that God we both adore—
Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn,
It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels name Lenore—
Clasp a rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore.”
Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”

“Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!” I shrieked, upstarting—
“Get thee back into the tempest and the Night’s Plutonian shore!
Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!
Leave my loneliness unbroken!—quit the bust above my door!
Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!”
Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”

And the Raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;
And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon’s that is dreaming,
And the lamp-light o’er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
Shall be lifted—nevermore!

One month later, Santa Anna strolled with Isadora across his luxurious, sweeping hacienda in Veracruz.

Correction: Isadora strolled. Santa Anna clunked.

“Bah,” the general said. “What good is eternal life without a leg?”

The lady vampire scoffed. “Off the top of my head, I can think of a thousand dead men who would gladly trade a leg to be in your position.”

Santa Anna hobbled his way to a flower garden, where he sat down on a bench and adjusted the straps on his wooden prosthetic leg.

“Crafted by imbeciles!” the general shouted.

Isadora found a spot on the bench and sat quietly as her protege raged.

“How many times have I saved this country from ruin?!” the general barked. “And all I ask for is a fake leg that fits me properly!”

Santa Anna looked out at the green field that sprawled ahead of him, stretching all the way to the horizon. Peasant workers in rags toiled away under the hot sun, picking ripe vegetables and placing them into burlap sacks.

The general pulled out his pistol, closed his left eye and took aim at a random worker standing roughly eighty yards away. The trigger was pulled, the shot fired. The worker fell, his body disappearing into the greenery.

The remaining workers in the dead man’s vicinity stopped momentarily. They looked around and then upon realizing who had fired, went immediately back to work, praying that their brief pause had gone unnoticed.

“Why did I do that?” Santa Anna asked as he blew the smoke off the barrel of his gun.

“Because you wanted to,” Isadora replied.

“All my life, I have wanted to do many things,” Santa Anna said. “Terrible things.”

The general holstered his weapon then leaned back. He looked up at the sky and attempted to lose himself while staring at all the fluffy white clouds.

“The greatest drawback of life, mi amor, is a soul,” Isadora explained. “A priest will tell you that it is the very essence of your being but if we’re being honest, it is little more than a nagging pest, a pathetic little worm that holds you back…”

Isadora leaned in close and nibbled on Santa Anna’s earlobe. “Whispering in your ear to be good when being bad is much more fun.”

The lady flicked the petal into the air. It danced about in the wind for a moment before falling to the ground.

“But now it is gone,” Isadora said. “And now you no longer have to worry about it standing between you and what you desire ever again, morality be damned.”

“I do not understand how I can still be here without my soul,” Santa Anna said.

“It may not seem like it but trust me,” Isadora said as she brushed her cold hand up against Santa Anna’s colder cheek. “You are most certainly dead and upon death, the soul and the body separate. Your soul travels to heaven or hell, depending on whether you were a good boy or a bad boy. Where do you think it went?”

“I’d rather not think about it,” Santa Anna replied.

Isadora laughed. “Perhaps that is best.”

“I’m dead,” Santa Anna said. “Yet here I am.”

“Your body carries on,” Isadora said. “Your mind continues to function. But when I drained you of blood, I killed you. When you fed on my blood, you were revived. A body drained off blood that is offered blood cannot resist and even death cannot prevent it from feeding.”

Santa Anna sat up and looked around the field.

“You will need to continue feeding forever to remain as you are,” Isadora said.

“Speaking of,” Santa Anna said. “I’m feeling peckish.”

The general stood up and limped into the field. Isadora followed.

“Who will you choose?” the lady vampire asked.

The general stopped and stared at a gray haired old man who was digging in the earth with a shovel. “Too old.”

“Not necessarily a problem,” Isadora said as she followed her love. “Like wine, blood ages well.”

“Yes,” Santa Anna said. “But he’s lived about as much life as he can and wouldn’t fear death, would he?”

“You are a natural, novio,” Isadora said.

The general stopped in front of a hideous man with a hunchback and a goiter on his noise.

“Ugh,” Santa Anna said as he walked away. “Wretched.”

“The package doesn’t always match the taste,” Isadora said.

“Yes,” Santa Anna said. “But I’d have to look at him while I’m eating…hello.”

A buxom senorita took a break from picking corn to dab her sweaty brow with a handkerchief. Her hair was dark and pulled back from her face with a red ribbon.

The general’s fangs popped out.

“Practice what I showed you,” Isadora said.

“But it would be so much better if she screams,” Santa Anna said.

“You must learn how to glamour,” Isadora said.

“Oh, alright,” Santa Anna said as he if were a naughty school boy caving in to his scolding mother’s demands. “Senorita.”

“Si?” the señorita replied as she turned around. As soon as she noticed the general’s fangs she shrieked. “Un monstruo!”

“Shh,” Santa Anna said as his eyes turned red. “There is nothing to fear.”

“No hay nada que temer,” the señorita repeated.

“You want to come to me,” Santa Anna said.

“Quiero ir a ustedes,” the senorita replied.

She did and as soon as she was close, Santa Anna dove his fangs into her neck and sucked. The señorita was quiet, peaceful. Her eyes closed and as she was drained she slowly, peacefully went to asleep until her body went limp in the general’s arms.

Santa Anna lifted his blood soaked mouth up from his meal and tossed the senorita’s carcass to the ground as if it were trash.

“I am invincible,” Santa Anna said.

“Close,” Isadora said. “But not quite. You’ll want to stay away from silver and guard your heart at all costs. A silver bullet or a wooden stake driven through your heart will be the end of you.”

The she-vamp reached her delicate fingers into Santa Anna’s shirt and pulled out a shiny golden medallion that was hanging from his neck from a chain.

“Above all else,” Isadora said. “Do not lose this and do not ever go outside in the daylight without this on.”

Santa Anna looked down at the golden circle. The design was simple, a mere pentagram. In the center, there was the face of a fearsome looking ram with long, pointy horns.

“A cheap bauble,” Santa Anna said.

Isadora slapped her man across the face, then pointed her finger at him. “You have no idea how difficult it was to talk father into giving this to you. Most vampires must slave away in his service for centuries before gaining his trust.”

Santa Anna reached out and ran his fingers over a similar medallion that hanged from Isadora’s neck.

“Would it be wrong to assume that this ‘father’ you speak of is actually the dev…”

Another slap. A finger pointed at Santa Anna’s face again.

“Do not ever use father’s real name,” Isadora said.

“And why is that?” Santa Anna asked.

“Because the greatest trick that father ever played is to convince mankind that he does not exist,” Isadora answered. “Throw his name around often enough and incompetent humans might start to wise up.”

“Incompetent?” Santa Anna asked.

“Humans are fools,” Isadora said. “They live short lives and barely have enough time to learn a thing. Alas, you haven’t lived long either mi amor but follow my counsel and you will rule Mexico.”

Isadora took Santa Anna’s harm and the vampires walked together toward an enormous, pristine white mansion.

“The people already call you the Napoleon of the West,” Isadora said.

“I’m not sure that is a compliment,” Santa Anna said.

“It is,” Isadora said. “He was a masterful warrior and between you and I…he was one of us.”

Santa Anna’s eyes widened. “But he had his waterloo.”

“Obey me and you never will,” Isadora said.

“There is a cost you’ve yet to mention, no doubt,” Santa Anna said.

“Of course,” Isadora said. “You’ll need to wake up father.”

“Wake him?” Santa Anna asked.

“Naturally,” Isadora said. “Mexico will be yours, Antonio, but the world will be father’s.”